


Soft and Warm and Together

by StormStuff



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Cuddling, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Set in Episodes 159-160 | Scottish Safehouse Period (The Magnus Archives), editing is for chumps, exceedingly soft, oh no! there are 2 beds, written and posted in one sitting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-02
Updated: 2020-11-02
Packaged: 2021-03-08 22:48:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,434
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27340750
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StormStuff/pseuds/StormStuff
Summary: The safehouse was, essentially, just the one room. There was a kitchen in the corner, a door to the bathroom on the opposite wall. On either side of the bathroom was a bedroom, both exactly identical.(Daisy always intended to come to the safehouse with a Partner.)Jon started formulated his list of Reasons Why It Would Be A Really Bad Idea To Sleep Alone, Actually.
Relationships: Martin Blackwood/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist
Comments: 7
Kudos: 229





	Soft and Warm and Together

They arrived at the safehouse after a full day of driving, having watched the sun rise and fall from a car window. They only stopped briefly at lunchtime to get food and trade driving and navigation duties.

At the start of the drive they were quiet and awkward, then they started talking and talking and talking, and then they got tired and it got quiet again. It was all very comfortable and quaint. They held hands the whole time, comforted by the surety of the other’s presence.

And confusing, because Jon had no clue what was going on now. He didn’t understand these feelings, this relationship stuff. He’d like to talk it out, but now didn’t feel like the time.

They pulled off the gravel road to park in front of the safehouse. It could be charitably called a cottage, though it wasn’t picturesque. The garden had been left to the weeds and the roof had been long neglected.

(It wasn’t meant for comfort, it was meant to be a place to sleep and Hunt.)

Martin got the luggage out of the boot, and Jon went ahead to check for booby-traps. None of this was said in words, it was just understood.

There were no booby-traps set, though there were materials and infrastructure to set them if they so desired. The furniture was bare-bones and minimalistic, and everything was covered in a thick layer of dust.

The kitchen was more of the same, cheap but efficient appliances, cans of reserves in the cupboards. There wasn’t a kettle, but there was tea and a small pot, two mugs from the second-hand shop in the village. There was a small table, sturdy and simple, with two chairs.

Martin came in the door then, heaving the two bags over the bumpy threshold. “It’s safe?” he asked, slightly out of breath. Mostly he was just tired with a bone-deep exhaustion weighing him down to the floor.

“Yes.” Jon said, “It’s dusty, but nothing imminently dangerous.”

“Great,” Martin said, “Please tell me the bed’s already made, I don’t want to have to hunt for linens.”

“Heh, Hunt.” Jon laughed at his own off-color joke. He was a bit tired too. “The bed’s already made.”

Hm. The safehouse was essentially one room, broken up by a wall. On one side of the main living area was the kitchen, on the other was the bathroom. The bathroom was small but well-stocked, and on either side of the bathroom was a room with a bed.

(Daisy had always hoped to come here someday with a Partner to Hunt with.)

Jon got irrationally scared at the thought of sleeping alone.

Martin was still there, holding the bags and looking at him with… an expression. Fond and amused and also bone tired.

“Right this way,” Jon said, and led Martin through the bathroom to one of the rooms. Martin followed and dropped the bags almost immediately after the door.

“I’ll take first shower, if you don’t mind?” Martin asked, scrubbing his fingers through his hair. It was still salty, dried in a windswept position like the Lonely was trying to pull him back into it.

“Yeah,” Jon said, looking around. There was another door in the room, out into the garden and held closed with a serious deadbolt. “Of course.”

“Thanks,” Martin said, and grabbed the door handle. Then he turned back, “Please don’t… please don’t go anywhere?”

“I, yeah?” Jon said. Had he lost time? Did he look out the window too longingly? “I won’t, don’t worry.”

“Thanks, sorry.” Martin said, “It’s silly, but I just keep imagining--”

“It’s not silly,” Jon rushed to assure him, and he didn’t know if it would be appropriate to go grab Martin. He wanted to comfort him, but he didn’t know Martin’s boundaries. He didn’t know what they were, now. “I’ll be here. Don’t worry.”

“Thanks.” he was about to go into the bathroom again, but Jon had a sudden flash, and--

“Let the shower run, for a few minutes.” Jon said, “Before you get in. There’s some gunk in the pipes, but it should work itself out.”

Martin smiled, genuinely smiled, at that. “Thanks, Jon.” he left and the shower turned on.

The bed was a double with really good sheets and a thick, luxurious duvet. When Jon sat down, a cloud of dust puffed up. It would’ve been comical if it hadn’t been in his face.

Well, that just won’t do. Jon wanted nothing more than to fall asleep, but that was just plain disgusting. He couldn’t sleep there, and Martin especially couldn’t. He stripped the sheets and blankets and opened the door, shaking them into the night.

He didn’t notice the bathroom door creak open behind him until he heard, “Jon?” Martin asked, “What are you doing?” he actually sounded amused, which was the best option.

“The, uh, the sheets were dusty.” Jon turned around. They were mostly un-dusty now, enough that he was willing to sleep on them. “I was shaking them out.”

“Now you’re all dusty,” Martin said, and maybe Jon lost time again because now he was right there.

“I guess,” Jon said, “It’s fine, I’ll fix the bed.”

“I can fix it,” Martin said, “You go shower off.”

A shower sounded nice. Twelve or so hours in a car really made him appreciate feeling clean, and now that Martin pointed it out he felt all grimy. He grabbed a pair of pyjamas out of his bag at random.

The bathroom was still slightly damp, the mirror was coated in a thin veneer of fog. There were two towel bars, Martin’s towel was already folded neatly on his bar, his old clothes in the hamper.

He spent the shower curating a list of Reasons Why It Would Be A Really Bad Idea To Sleep Alone, Actually. There was the inherent danger of being in a new place, the unfamiliarity of it all, the house was creaky and scary.

There were monsters out there, they were being hunted, and Jon needed to be able to get to Martin quickly if there was an emergency. In the horror movies the worst part always struck when they were separated, and wouldn’t it be awful if the worst part hit while they were asleep.

And Jon wanted to be there for Martin. He wanted to remind Martin he wasn’t alone, and help Martin through a nightmare and he wanted the assurance for himself that Martin was there and warm and it wasn’t just a cruel dream.

Jon didn’t want to be alone.

He got out of the shower and started wringing his hair into the sink. That was the worst part of having long hair, although he loved it other times. His hair just held onto the moisture and made him wake up in the middle of the night all cold.

There was the other door to the other bedroom to his left, mocking him. He Knew it was exactly a mirror image of the room on his right, the only difference being that Martin was on his right. He knew where he wanted to go, but did Martin even want him there?

“Jon?” Martin knocked on the door, “Are you alright? The water turned off a while ago.”

“Yeah,” Jon called back, warmth unexpectedly spreading through his chest. “Long hair, it’s a hassle. Thanks for checking,” 

“Alright,” Martin said. “Come to bed soon?”

The Eye taught Jon something useful for once, and he walked out of the bathroom with his hair piled in a towel on top of his head. Martin was waiting in the bed, stubbornly refusing to sleep even though his eyes drooped. He was doing the cute kitten thing, falling asleep for a second before jerking himself awake.

He saw Jon and lifted up the corner of the sheets, “Get over here.” he muttered.

Jon did, walking to the bed in two quick strides and burying himself under the covers. It was warmer that he’d expected, and Martin’s arm slung over him as soon as he was down.

“This alright?” Martin asked, only one eye open and mumbly with sleep.

“This is perfect.” Jon snuggled close to him and watched Martin drift off to sleep before falling asleep himself.

There would be talking, there would be planning and cleaning and going down to the village for the essentials, but those were all problems for later. For now, all that mattered was Martin at his side and snoring into his hair.

It wasn’t a dreamless sleep, but every time he startled awake between statements, Martin was still there, warm and sure.

**Author's Note:**

> an exceedingly soft idea that just hit me.


End file.
